


Maybe More

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You said--” Harry flicked his eyes to Malfoy’s mouth, as if to jolt his memory of exactly what Malfoy said and how his lips formed the words. Harry almost shivered, remembering Malfoy’s arms around him, breath tickling his ear. “You said you wanted to move on. I get it. I want that, too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe More

Malfoy’s half moon eyes shone in the darkness. “Scared, Potter?” he asked with an air of nonchalance.

Harry looked away and crossed his fingers behind his back. “You wish.”

Unexpectedly, Malfoy began to laugh at that. Harry frowned, dirty trainer kicking the grass stubbornly. “What’s so funny? We’re probably going to be stuck out here until breakfast!”

Malfoy just shook his head, hands clutching at his sides. Really, Harry didn’t understand what was so amusing about their current situation. It was Harry’s fault, too. If he had just let Malfoy do his part, then they would have been done at least an hour ago. He could have been in his warm, familiar bed right now– without Malfoy– if he had just kept his damn mouth shut. But when had he ever been able to restrain himself around the other boy?

“It’s just that–” Malfoy took a shaky breath, “we keep going in circles! It’s bloody ridiculous,” he staggered toward Harry like he was drunk. A finger jabbed Harry in the chest and he instinctively swiped it away. Only for it to return seconds later. “Round and round. I’m dizzy. I’m tired of it,” Malfoy spat.

Harry was too busy looking into Malfoy’s gleaming eyes to notice that his own hand was clutching Malfoy’s, practically cradling it to his chest. “I don’t get it,” Harry said, “you’re the one who told me to fuck off in the beginning of term. I wanted to make amends, but you flat out rejected me!” Harry was getting angry now. Malfoy was such a hypocrite.

“Again!” Malfoy’s soft chuckle blew across the bridge of Harry’s nose, his cheeks. They were really close, his brain finally registered. He could see Malfoy’s pale eyelashes brush against his cheeks every time he blinked. “We’re stuck in an endless cycle, you and I.”

Harry pushed Malfoy off and took a step back. “We’re not stuck, Malfoy,” he said, tilting his face up towards the sky. It was overcast tonight. The moon winked from behind black clouds. Harry just wanted to go back inside the castle.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy begin to remove his robe.

“What are you doing?” he yelled, fumbling towards the other boy. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re going to catch a cold,” Harry hastily smoothed the thick fabric back over Malfoy’s shoulders and practically purred. The git had one of those fancy built in heating charms woven through the expensive fabric.

“Uh–” Malfoy said to the top of Harry’s head. “Okay?”

Harry shuffled backwards once again and kept his head down to hide his blush. He wondered if it would even be visible in the darkness. He hoped not. God, that was embarrassing. He should have just let the ponce freeze to death. Harry shivered.

“What the hell are we supposed do now?” Malfoy asked the castle. “Sleep out here? No fucking thank you.”

Harry looked towards the forest. Hagrid’s hut was dark, and most likely just as cold inside as it was outside, but it was better than sleeping on the grass.  
“Follow me,” Harry said, not bothering to make sure Malfoy actually listened before jogging down the hill.

The other boy seemed to have caught on to Harry’s train of thought, because after a minute Malfoy was striding along beside him. “I’m not spending the night with that oaf,” he said.

Harry didn’t bother with a response. He knew Hagrid hadn’t returned to Hogwarts, the hut was empty. And he was right– when they finally got inside it was still freezing, only minus the wind.

Harry lit a pathetic looking fire and he and Malfoy fought over the space in front of it before compromising, sitting side by side. Harry’s thigh was pressed along the long length of Malfoy’s, seemingly radiating more heat than the fire.

“So,” Harry said awkwardly, “Tired?”

Malfoy elbowed him in the ribs. “This is all your fault.” he pouted.

Harry sighed, “I know.”

“Excuse me?” Malfoy said, turning his eyes on Harry incredulously. “Did you just say I was right?”

Their faces were very close and Harry found himself holding his breath. He turned to the fire and shrugged, “No. I’m saying I should have just left you to your half of the assignment and minded my own business.”

Malfoy was still looking at him. Harry was afraid to face him again, worried that they had somehow moved even closer, and if he did, their noses would touch. The thought made a shiver rush through him, gooseflesh prickled at his arms. 

He stammered out, “I’m sorry,” just as Malfoy said, “It’s okay.”

“What?” Harry got out, “No it’s not! We might freeze to death and it’s all my fault!”

Malfoy huffed. “Stop being dramatic. As soon as someone realizes their hero is missing they’ll dispatch a search time and we’ll be let back into the castle in no time.”

“No, listen to me,” Harry said stubbornly, needing Malfoy to hear him out, “Don’t tell me it’s okay. I knew you could perform those spells just fine. In fact, we could have been the first ones back to the castle, if we wanted to.” Harry picked at his tie, “But I didn’t want that… I wanted to argue with you, and fight. I wanted to see you get mad at me, and– and I just couldn’t bloody well leave you alone!”

Harry hugged his knees to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, when Malfoy didn’t reply. He cursed Professor Trelawney and her strange sense of humor.  
Reconcile and redemption my arse, Harry thought gloomily. At least no teacher would ever dream of pairing them up again after this. Harry rubbed at his tired eyes and sighed.

“Potter?” Malfoy finally said, shifting away from the fire.

Harry turned his head, eyeing Malfoy from the corner of his eye. “Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Harry laughed, turning back to the fire and settling in to wait for a rescue.

The rescue never came.

It was still dark when Harry jolted awake, and the few seconds it took him to remember his surroundings had him panicking. Also, it was bloody freezing-- the fire had died and Harry was left with only his cheap outer robes for warmth as he slept. Pushing himself up off the hard floor, Harry’s back protested when he finally sat up. Malfoy was sighing softly, a few feet away from him, fast asleep.

Harry tried to get the fire back on, but all he managed was a couple of sparks. His hands were so numb he couldn’t even manage a good grip on his wand. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, breath puffing visibly from his lips.

Beside him, Malfoy appeared completely at ease. His eyebrows tugged down into a slight frown, but the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned, like he was thinking of smirking even in his sleep. Harry watched him for a moment before hesitantly reaching out a hand. He only meant to shake Malfoy awake, but as soon as his frozen fingers made contact with Malfoy’s shoulder, he remembered. 

“Merlin, you’ve got heated robes!” Harry whisper-shouted. In the next minute his prickling fingertips had undone the first few claps of Malfoy’s robes and-- “It’s bloody fur-lined!”-- Harry shoved his blue fingers in Malfoy’s robes and pressed them against the sleeping boy’s chest. 

Before Harry could even register the warmth, Malfoy was awake and shoving him off confusedly.

His movements were slow with sleep and he fumbled at the opening to his robes. “What the fuck, Potter?” he said with wide eyes. 

Harry, who had been pushed onto his back, propped himself on his elbows and glared at Malfoy. “I'm cold,” he said.

“So what? You thought violating me in my sleep would warm you up?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Just light another bloody fire and keep your hands to yourself.”  
“I already tried-- my hands won’t work,” Harry tried to bend his fingers, but they wouldn’t move. Draco looked like he was about to say something snarky, but stopped when he saw Harry’s hands. 

“Potter, you’re practically blue. What the hell are you doing?” Draco fumbled for his wand, a little overzealous. The fireplace roared to life and Harry had to move back lest risk getting his eyebrows singed off. His shoulder knocked into Malfoy’s chest and he gasped at the warmth coming both from the fire and the body behind him.

He made to move off of Malfoy, but was stopped by an arm circling his chest. “You’re still shivering,” Malfoy said, breath hot on Harry’s neck. 

“I’m f-fine,” Harry chattered, his body going into shock from the sudden change in temperature. “Just go b-back to s-s-sleep, M-Ma--”

“Would you just shut up, Harry?” Malfoy huffed, and Harry did. 

Malfoy shifted beneath him and Harry registered that he was removing his robes.

“N-no, don’t--” he was silenced when Malfoy swished the robe in front of them, his arm coming around Harry fully and covering them both with the fur-lined fabric. Harry was quite literally snuggled up against Malfoy’s chest.

“Better?” Malfoy asked.

“Er, yes. S-s-sorry.”

“Shut up. I’m going to lay down now. The robe isn’t big enough for both of us, but..” Malfoy maneuvered them so Harry was tucked into his side, head resting on a surprisingly un-pointy shoulder. He turned his head towards the warmth and his nose brushed Malfoy’s neck. 

“Merlin, Potter!” he swore. “Should have woken me up sooner, you arse.” Malfoy arms tightened his body until Harry could feel every rise of Malfoy’s chest, the rhythmic movement and warmth making him sleepy.

‘Why are you doing this?” Harry asked, muffling a yawn into Malfoy’s shoulder before blushing at the intimacy of his action. He didn’t-- Malfoy wasn’t even his friend.

It took a few minutes for Malfoy’s reply to come, and even then it took a minute for it to reach Harry’s foggy brain. He was so tired.

“You were right. I should have accepted your… forgiveness when it was first offered. And now I want things to be different-- with you. With everyone. I’m done going in circles.” Malfoy’s voice was soft when he said, “It’s time I started moving on.”

Harry was asleep before he could come up with a proper response.

The next time Harry woke, he was in the Hospital Wing. The bedsheets scratched at his sensitive skin and it was only a minute before Madame Pomfrey was at his side.

Mr. Potter,” she tsked. “You are one lucky boy.”

She explained what had happened, how Malfoy had carried him to the castle as soon as the sun came up and the gates opened. How Harry was passed out, his body in shock from the cold. 

That was two days ago.

“And I’m okay?” Harry asked. His luck was bound to run out soon. How many lives did he have left, he wondered. Three? Maybe more, if you didn’t count all the broken bones and stitches. 

Madame Pomfrey assured him that her healing skills were as good as ever and that he would be free to return to class the next day.

“Eat up these next few days,” she said, “Your body is likely still weak. Do take care of yourself, Mr. Potter,” she said with a frown before sending him on his way.

The first place Harry went was The Great Hall. Dinner was practically over, but Harry wanted to find his friends before anything. They were probably worried sick.

When he arrived at the hall, it was hardly a quarter full. The remaining students left were talking, likely visiting friends from other houses before curfew. All the food had been vanished and the tables spelled clean. Harry’s eyes wandered to the Slytherin table, a bad habit, and he was surprised to see Malfoy sitting there. His eyes were already on Harry.

With Harry’s own friends nowhere to be seen, his feet decided to take him to the only other familiar face in the room. Malfoy was no longer looking at him when he greeted Harry with a bored sounding, “Potter.” 

“Can I talk to you?” Harry requested, shifting from foot to foot. The other Slytherins were staring at him, making him regret approaching Malfoy before getting him alone first.

Why do you want to get Malfoy alone? his brain chided him. But all Harry wanted to do was talk. There was nothing suspicious about talking.

Just because he couldn’t get the smell of Malfoy’s cologne out of his memory. Just because he could still feel the whisper of Malfoy’s breath against the back of his neck. _I just want to talk to him_ , Harry thought for the millionth time.

“No,” Malfoy replied succinctly, getting up and forcing Harry to take a step back.

Harry wasn’t prepared for a flat out rejection. Actually, he wasn’t prepared for dealing with Malfoy at all. Which is probably why he blurted, “That’s not what you said the other night,” before his brain could catch up and give him a list of reasons why that was not the right thing to say. Not the right thing at all.

The table of Slytherins burst into laughter. Harry felt hot all over. He self-consciously rubbed his hands over his warm cheeks and waited for Malfoy to throw a fit for being embarrassed in front of his own house, by Harry Potter no less.

Then the smirk slid into place and Harry knew he was doomed. Malfoy’s eyes gleamed with the promise of humiliation. He looked over his shoulder at the Slytherin table and Harry could have sworn he saw the git wink before facing Harry once again.

 _Run_ , his brain told him.

“You’re right,” Malfoy told him, voice ringing out through the empty hall “I said a lot of things that night, didn’t I? But what wouldn’t one say with the savior of the wizarding world-- vulnerable, lonely-- seeking the comfort of another warm body?”

A wolf whistle sounded from behind Malfoy and his expression adopted a daring quality it didn’t quite have before. “I suppose if you really want, we can talk about it right here. Where should we start?” he played bored, inspecting his hands while he spoke, fingers splayed wide in front of him. “With your desperate attempts to undress me? Or the way you let me hold--”

“That’s enough, Malfoy.” Harry said, mortified. Malfoy’s friends obviously didn’t know the actual truth behind their accidental night out of the castle. And Malfoy was doing everything he could to twist it into something different, something false.

Harry walked out of the Great Hall to the hoots and hollers of his classmates, cheeks burning and heart pounding.

“Potter!” Malfoy yelled from behind him. Harry heard footsteps hitting the ground at a run, “Wait!”

Against his better judgement, Harry listened. Without even bothering to turn around, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and clenched his fists tightly at his sides. Oh, he was going to really give it to Malfoy, now. In all honesty, the git did have it coming for a long time. Too long, in Harry’s opinion. 

As soon as Malfoy neared, Harry turned around. 

“Potter, I--”

The sight of Malfoy’s face drained all the fight out of him. Ruffled and apologetic looking, Malfoy looked out of his comfort zone. ‘Don’t worry about it. I get it,” Harry interrupted.

Malfoy frowned, confused and wary. “Well. Okay? Let me--” He stopped abruptly and then shook his head. Malfoy gave Harry a questioning look, then made to walk away, back towards the Great Hall. Harry caught his sleeve before he could.

“I get it,” Harry repeated, turning his grip onto Malfoy’s wrist. Malfoy frowned and pressed his arm against Harry’s chest to shake him off. He shoved Harry towards the wall and Harry stumbled, catching himself, using his grip on Malfoy’s wrist as leverage to keep upright. This caused Malfoy to lurch forward, forcing the boy to slam his other hand against the wall, just above Harry’s left shoulder. Harry was efficiently trapped.

Well. This wasn’t going as planned. 

Both boys were breathing heavily, eyes locked, chests heaving. Malfoy’s arm was twisted awkwardly between their chests, but neither boy dared move. Harry cleared his throat.

“You said--” Harry flicked his eyes to Malfoy’s mouth, as if to jolt his memory of exactly what Malfoy said and how his lips formed the words. Harry almost shivered, remembering Malfoy’s arms around him, breath tickling his ear. “You said you wanted to move on. I get it. I want that, too.”

“This isn’t what I meant.” Malfoy said. “When I said I wanted things to be different with you. Potter, this isn’t what I meant.” 

Harry trailed his eyes back down to Malfoy's lips. He was being too obvious, fuck, but he was past the point of no return. They were already too close-- honestly, Harry had only planned to suggest they try, oh, perhaps having a civil conversation. Maybe they could try understanding each other, for once. 

He never imagined they’d skip right to where all those scenarios eventually led (in his mind, at least). Though with more lips involved. And maybe a little teeth, if he was lucky.  
But damn, he thought. None of this would be happening, he wouldn’t feel this way, had they not gotten stuck together that night. Harry had been doing a really splendid job of staying away from Malfoy thus far, only for all his hard work to go to waste. 

Everything was spilling over now, and Harry was helpless to stop it-- his feelings, his desires.

Harry could admit by now that he had somewhat of an addictive personality. What he could no longer deny was that Malfoy apparently was his drug of choice. 

Harry let his head tip back against the wall, bearing his throat. He let his lidded eyes trail slowly over Malfoy’s pale features. His left hand hovered between them for a second before finding purchase on Malfoy’s pale jaw. Malfoy had a nice jaw. It narrowed down to a strong point, like a heart. And when Malfoy turned profile, it was angular and defined. Though, surprisingly, very soft in Harry’s palm. He chanced a swipe of his thumb across Malfoy's blushing cheek.

“Potter…”

“Harry.”

“Right. What exactly are you doing. Harry?”

Harry smiled. Malfoy kissed him.

 _Draco_ kissed _him_.

Harry inhaled sharply, then pressed forward. Malfoy pressed back, and Harry was shoved up onto his toes, back pressing painfully into the wall. Kissing Malfoy was a lot like fighting with him, Harry realized, but in this case, Harry was glad to let Malfoy take the lead.

Malfoy’s mouth turned soft and insistent when he realized Harry had stopped fighting back. Harry let his right hand release Malfoy’s wrist, snaking his arm around the back of Malfoy’s neck instead. 

His bottom lip had just been sucked wetly into Malfoy’s mouth, when they were interrupted.

Malfoy wrenched himself away from Harry, faster than lightning, looking to their intruder before looking at the floor. His cheeks were blotchy and red, hair ruffled and tie undone-- did Harry do that? he wondered-- Malfoy looked wrecked.

“Er, don’t stop on my account. I was just--” Blaise pointed randomly and began to walk away, but paused to clap Malfoy on the shoulder and whisper loudly, “Congratulations, mate.”

Malfoy shoved him off and Blaise continued down the hallway, cackling like a madman.

Harry touched his lips and then said, “Um.”

“Shut up, please.” Malfoy said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Make me,” Harry challenged. 

And, surprisingly, Malfoy did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this. I've never actually completed a story before, and although this is silly and lighthearted, I really hope someone out there enjoyed it. Since I'm kind of a newbie, constructive criticism is very welcome. Thank you again!


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